The New York Times

April 17, 1999

'Dust': Telling Stories to Survive the Absence of a Future

By BERNARD HOLLAND

The genuine raconteurs of this world often occupy the lower
orders of society. It is the vagrants, street people, laborers
and menials who practice the gift of anecdote with such superior
grace, for telling things well is for them an act of survival.
Listen to Robert Ashley, the central voice in his new opera, "Dust,"
at the Kitchen on Wednesday night:

"The story becomes a kind of friend," he narrates,
"to make you feel good about yourself, which is the main
thing. To keep away the hurt. To keep away feeling bad, which
is hard." Loss is relentless in all our lives, but especially
for those whose futures promise little chance to recoup. Stories
become shelters, keeping out the cold when everything else has
been taken away.

Some stories are more factual than others, but that is no matter.
"Add a little something here and there, maybe not even true,"
Mr. Ashley says in his softly scratchy, fluid voice, "to
give it a little local color. So that you can remember it."

"Dust," a five-voice performance piece with television
images and gently synthesized musical accompaniment, communes
with the habitués of a small urban park. First Mr. Ashley
tells us about his friends. Then they speak for themselves. One
friend yells at cars, another "at nobody in particular."
Still another was Shirley Temple's stand-in, though "it's
hard to see the Shirley Temple in her now."

Another has lost his legs "in some war" and sings
with such fervor that he slips often from his wheelchair, to which
he is restored with difficulty. Another friend is envied for his
waterproof rug; under it he sleeps easily in bad weather.

As a composer, Mr. Ashley is a superior writer. He has the
gift of simple language that springs forward with a wonderful
rhythmic grace. The pauses are deftly calculated. Sometimes words
bleed into musical tones, but most of the music is in simple pop-chord
harmonies moving through basic cadences. Said in a better way,
the true music in "Dust" is in the language and its
delivery.

Mr. Ashley, Jacqueline Humbert, Joan La Barbara, Thomas Buckner
and Sam Ashley operate from behind plastic shields made either
transparent or opaque by lighting effects. One large complex of
television screens stands overhead and five smaller ones flash
color designs and subliminal messages from the detritus of modern
life. All are designed by Yukihiro Yoshihara.

Although the last part of "Dust" sinks into somewhat
soggy banality, the first 45 minutes of this uninterrupted hour-and-three-quarter
piece are utterly captivating. The observation is acute yet low-keyed.
The ironies are gentle. There are no cries of rage for lives unjustly
left unfulfilled. In their place are stories, wonderfully told,
stories that provide order and redemption in shattered lives.

Ms. La Barbara's delivery was as vivid as Mr. Ashley's was
subtle and insinuating. All were good, but especially these two.
Blue Gene Tyranny and Tom Hamilton were the musicians and sound
processors. Yasunori Kakegawa and Nobuyoshi Umeki managed the
visual elements. "Dust" at the Kitchen repeats today
at 4 and 8 P.M.